English translation of the prose
AI-assisted English translation of the prose; quoted poems remain in Japanese. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
Japan Romanticism Poetry Circle — Winter, January
January 17, 2026
Record and commentary: 河内裕二, Japan Romanticism Academia
Poems and commentary
Am I alone in feeling that one sees fewer kadomatsu New Year gate decorations nowadays? In December, Christmas trees fill every corner of town, yet pine decorations are not displayed so widely at New Year. Evergreens, which do not wither in winter but retain green leaves, have long been regarded as symbols of what does not change or cease. Fir and pine are both evergreens. For Japanese people in particular, the pine is a special tree, considered a dwelling place to welcome a deity. That is why kadomatsu are erected at entrances for New Year. In Fuchū, Tokyo, where I live, Ōkunitama Shrine has a history of about 1,900 years. It enshrines Ōkunitama Ōkami, regarded as the same deity as Ōkuninushi, yet not a single pine grows in its grounds. According to tradition, when Daikoku and Hachiman came here, Hachiman went to look for lodging and left Daikoku waiting. Tired of waiting—matsu—Daikoku came to dislike pine, also matsu. Because of this story, parts of Fuchū still preserve the custom of making New Year gate decorations without pine. I too have seen ones using cedar instead. There is something sad about traditions and customs gradually disappearing.
The meeting was held at Deguchisō in Moroiso from 1:30 a.m. on January 17. Those attending were the eight members 三宅尚道, president of the Miura Tanka Society; 加藤由良子, 嘉山光枝, 嶋田弘子, 羽床員子, 安田喜子; President Seishu Hamano and Jun Hayama of Japan Romanticism Academia, together with 河内裕二. The two absent members, 清水和子 and Yukinori Hirano, also sent poems.
Translator's note: the source gives 午前一時半, 1:30 a.m.; the time has not been silently changed.
01 — 安田喜子
船首へと笹松榊供へたり
漁の町の儀今も変はらず 喜子
A work by 安田喜子. Through the act of placing offerings aboard a boat going out to sea, she quietly observes a town in which inherited beliefs and customs are deeply bound up with life. A profound love of her home region can be felt in that gaze. We do not know how large the boat is, but if it is a small fishing vessel carrying one person, reading 漁 as isari rather than ryō might better evoke the transmission of tradition. Expressions such as 「笹松榊」 show skillful handling of words.
02 — 嘉山光枝
空気澄み頂白き富士の山
歩みを止めて眺める人等 光枝
The author is 嘉山光枝. The opening sketches the distant view and the latter part the near view, allowing the whole scene to emerge. The contrast between majestic Mount Fuji and human beings is also effective. Before Fuji, which cannot be seen without inspiring awe, people merely stop walking; that gesture makes the mountain's sublimity stand out still more. There is perhaps a slightly report-like impression, but it is persuasive if we consider that the restraint of this quiet description allows Fuji to take the leading role.
03 — 加藤由良子
新婚の庭に蒔きたる柿の種
八十路に実る花火の如く 由良子
A poem by 加藤由良子. A modest act in youth bears fruit after the passage of years. The compression of time between the opening and latter parts is the poem's remarkable strength, making the length and weight of a life keenly felt. It seems to speak about persimmons but can also be read as speaking about life itself. Comparing the fruit to fireworks is interesting and conjures a vivid scene. Read as life, however, it seems to express the transience of radiance in old age, leaving a note of sadness.
04 — 羽床員子
亡き夫は気性激しき性なれど
アルバム開けば笑顔溢れる 員子
The author is 羽床員子. Portraying her late husband through two aspects—his fierce temperament in life and his smiling face in photographs—gives depth to his character. The concrete action of opening an album suggests that she still thinks of him and quietly gazes at his remembered image. It is a poem conveying how love has matured further with the passage of time.
05 — Jun Hayama
初春に父母と迎えし幸せを
永遠にと願うスマホの写真 潤
The author is Jun Hayama. The opening reminds readers that welcoming the New Year with the whole family together is by no means something to take for granted. The wish for it to last forever can arise precisely because the author knows it will not; the weight of those words makes the happiness stand out all the more. How should we interpret the smartphone photograph at the end? The poem concludes with a picture displayed on the impersonal screen of an utterly everyday physical device. Yet over it lies the author's warm gaze, and love for Jun’s parents is unmistakable. Moreover, since a digital image does not deteriorate, it can also be read as containing Jun’s wish for permanence.
06 — Seishu Hamano
歳月経れば今また思ふ若き頃
君な忘れそ夜毎の語らひ 成秋
A poem by President Seishu Hamano. According to the author, it is fiction, deliberately allowing each reader to imagine and interpret it in various ways. The “you” in 「君な忘れそ」 may indeed be a lover or friend, but it can simultaneously be understood as an address to his own past self. The expression 「夜毎の語らひ」 is also excellent, stirring curiosity about what was said in those nightly conversations. The flow of consciousness between past and present, together with the classical diction, gives the whole firmness and dignity.
07 — 河内裕二
年あらた夜明けの空は色づきて
昨日の影は遠くなりけり 裕二
My own work, on New Year's morning. The visual contrast of light and darkness corresponds to present and past, but it is not made clear whether “yesterday's shadow” is an actual shadow or some metaphor. That ambiguity gives the poem resonance and breadth. It is surely a fitting poem for the New Year.
08 — 嶋田弘子
産土の木々から覗くお天道
「さあがんばれ！」と七色を放つ 弘子
The author is 嶋田弘子. Visiting the shrine daily, she took a photograph of the sun and felt, through its beauty, that it must be telling her to keep going. After words not often used in everyday life, such as 「産土」 and 「お天道」, the colloquial, direct expression 「さあがんばれ」 bursts out. The contrast intensifies the impression, producing a distinctive atmosphere that combines sacredness with familiarity. The “seven colors” send out rich hues, evoking hope and future possibilities, and finally impressing upon us that this is light blessing the author.
09 — 三宅尚道
アンパンマンのみにて世の中成り立たず
バイキンマンと今日は戦ふ 尚道
The author is 三宅尚道. Using the familiar material of Anpanman, this poem views the world from beyond simple moral tales in which virtue is rewarded and evil punished, and carries philosophical implications. It looks humorous, but its content is cynical. Perhaps Takashi Yanase, the creator of Anpanman, might sympathize with it.
10 — Yukinori Hirano
久方のラケット片手に輪の中へ
笑みでねぎらう筋肉痛よ ユキノリ
The author is Yukinori Hirano. He writes of joining a tennis session. The choice of “into the circle,” rather than onto the court, shows that this is more than sport: it is an occasion for companionship. Normally, sore muscles are nothing but painful, yet he acknowledges them appreciatively—and with a smile. It is a refreshing poem that conveys a positive attitude.
11 — 清水和子
暖かき太陽背にうけ口漱ぐ
も少し地球に居たくなる朝 和子
The author is 清水和子. Although the poem depicts a moment in morning life, placing large-scale words such as “sun” and “earth” against one human self gives that everyday moment a cosmic breadth. Alongside an upwelling desire to live, it reveals a philosophical attitude that looks at the self from a cosmic perspective, reaching beyond the everyday to question the meaning of existence.
After the meeting, we moved to another room for the New Year celebration. I look forward to the delicious food every year, but what always impresses me is haba-nori, a rare rock-growing seaweed harvested by hand along the rocky shores of the Miura Peninsula. It has a rich scent of the shore and excellent flavor. Apparently it is very expensive to buy, so I am delighted that it is served to us each year. Before I began attending these gatherings, I had eaten Miura fish many times, but had never heard of this seaweed, let alone tasted it. Miura has a rich food culture. Poems on food occasionally appear at our meetings, perhaps reflecting this local environment.
Original wording, author credits, notes and source materials are preserved there.